The Prodigal Daughter
by CarterMacGyver
Summary: Cameron has a past that if you know where to look you can find.Her expereinces could let her help House,if he can accept it.While all this is going on,a new patient arrives with a new mystery and new lies,and Cameron's past unravels.HousexWW
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a cross with The West Wing. Because I am the author and thus have control over the people and the timelines. So be warned, I have The West Wing taking place years ago, before Cameron was born. To help with the timeline, I estimate Cameron's age at 36 years old at the beginning of the Season 3. So the Bartlet Administration began, gulp, 44 years ago. Just bare with me please.

Disclaimer:I don't won House, I really own…well, nothing, except my computer, a bunch of college textbooks, too many student loans, and can you own dreams?

The Prodigal Daughter

Chapter 1

Cameron took a deep breath and sighed, nothing made sense anymore. Why was it a bad thing to want just a normal practice? Why was it a bad thing to just want anonymity? To just want to be normal? Not famous, not world-renowned, just normal, that was all that she wanted. And what was wrong with that?

Looking at the stack of mail in front of her, she sighed again, at times she felt like her mother. Toiling away for a man who gave little to no indication of any feelings for her. No, that was wrong, Dad had given indicators over the years, including her favorite, the flowers for their "anniversary" which wasn't really an anniversary since no other boss and assistant had one.

She hadn't told Foreman why she wanted that normality, why she didn't want to be a world-renowned doctor. Hell, she didn't tell anyone about that, she figured that if they wanted to know, it was to damn easy to figure it out. Just Goggling her name or even her picture would get that answer for anyone who would want to know.

Cameron sighed again, and after checking to make sure no one else had arrived yet, she took her pills. Not the HIV pills, that scare was long gone and she'd hated it, because she'd had to tell people. Tell her doctor about the surgery and the pills, not that she didn't figure that House didn't know, after all he's looked at her medical record that first year of her fellowship. Oddly she'd been more upset that he could know about….about that night and the reason that she took the pills. Neatly stacking the mail in the center of House's desk, she sat done briefly in his chair.

His behavior since he'd returned the previous week had been odd, well to the others it had been odd. She knew what it was, but that was because she had it too, and she knew that he would never accept help. Not from her anyway. Maybe she'd talk to Stanley anyway, he might have some suggestions. She leaned back in House's chair, it was far more comfortable than the chairs in the conference room, definitely comfortable enough to fall asleep in. Maybe she should call Stanley for herself, she'd been having the dream again, ever since that day. The day that House had been shot, she'd practically begged Cuddy to have the carpet changed every day including actually begging the Dean of Medicine the day before he'd returned. But Cuddy hadn't understood, even Wilson hadn't understood why it NEEDED to be done. They both wanted to believe that all the pain and drama of Greg House that they had dealt with for the last seven years was over. That the Ketamine had literally fixed everything.

But she knew better, she knew. There were some things you just couldn't fix. Things that would never be fixed. House had been right when he'd accused her of being broken. She knew she was, she'd been broken since that when she was sixteen…that night she dreamed about. Although it had changed over the last two months, since she'd seen House shot.

Spinning the chair around to face the window, and closing her eyes, she fought back the tears, she knew how she felt about him. And she was pretty sure it wasn't going away. She'd hoped that he could fix her, she honestly didn't think he could be fixed, and except for the thing that only she could as a problem, she thought he was perfect. She didn't mind the sarcasm, the abrasiveness, or the gruff manner, in a way she had grown up with all of those things. Even if different people had embodied those qualities, not just one person. Hell, even her dad had the God complex that House shared, although her dad had also wanted to help people, as well as be right.

As she drifted off to sleep, a sleep that she was too tired to fight, she vainly hoped that she wouldn't have the dream again. She really hated having episodes and she'd managed to not have to bad of one here at the hospital for the last three years, she didn't want them knowing. She hated for anyone to know, especially House.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:Thanks to those who reviewed. I should mention that this story takes place after the second episode of season 3. I was going to have it be after the season premiere, but I liked the second episode so much, especially with the actions of both House and Cameron, that I moved it. Not that it matters much, it just gives everyone a better idea of when this is in relation to the show. Also I'm not quite sure I got House right in this chapter. So please if you feel he's off a bit, tell me. Also anyone who would like to, I feel the need to have a beta for House fanfiction, probably because House is a rather hard character and series to work with I want to get it right, or as close to as possible. So if anyone's interested, contact me, please. That said, remember, reviews not only make me smile, they also get new chapters typed faster.

Because I forgot to say before, I don't own West Wing. It makes me sad to admit it, but I don't.

Chapter 2

Leaning heavily on his cane House stood just inside the doorway to his office. Or at least he thought it was his office, after all it wasn't him sleeping in his chair. Moving as silently as he could over to his desk, he noticed the perfectly stacked and sorted mail, the cup of now cold coffee, and finally he turned his gaze to the reason for those items to even be on his desk. Sitting in his chair, facing the window, he wondered for a moment how she could sleep with the glare from the sun hitting all the annoying white that they had used for the outside walls, was Allison Cameron. He was torn between letting her sleep, in the short time he'd been back he'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes that even expert makeup was now failing to hide, and how each day those dark circles seemed to grow; but he also wanted to push something off the desk, probably his oft-consulted medical encyclopedia, and wake her up, it was his desk, his chair, only one person was allowed to sleep there. Him, or as the nurses had been calling him for a short time, the artist formerly known as gimpy. He was still thinking of a way to get back at them for that, he mocked, no one mocked him, it upset the balance of the universe, and if that happened, then well, Chase's aliens might come and abduct them or something.

Still, she looked more peaceful when she was sleep, and was quieter too. Like this she wasn't worrying about his leg, or trying to heal the sick and cure the wounded, although he had to admit, her insane desire to help their ever so annoying patients did come in handy, especially because it forced him to think a little bit harder, it pushed him just that extra bit to find the solution. Even when he'd been with Stacy he'd never felt like he had to prove anything to her, at least until the end when he had done everything to prove to her that they could work, that he just needed time to get over everything that had happened, God was it really almost 7 years ago now? She'd still left, and now he was trying to prove himself again. This time to Cameron, it hadn't worked then so he didn't even know why he was doing it again. Hell, he hadn't even realized that he was doing it until recently. Although, he'd started to realize it when she'd left him…no when she quit, when that had happened it had been harder to figure out why that little "I'm a woman now" kid swimmer chick, was sick. He had a feeling that if Cameron had been there it wouldn't have taken as long to diagnose the kid.

After he'd realized that she'd slept with Chase, while high no less, he'd worked even harder to prove himself. Though he'd had to disguise it by being extra nasty to her, and by having to ignore and mock the fact that she could have gotten injected with HIV. The only good thin was that he'd allowed himself to treat Chase like the piece of scum he was. After Dr. Chase Sr had died, he'd wanted to go a little easy on him, after all, the fact that Chase didn't know was because of him….sort of. But still, even he didn't cross some lines. Not many, but some.

"No….no…please….don't hurt…." Cameron's soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

No what? He wondered. Was she traumatized as a kid? Had her sick and dying husband traumatized her? He noticed that she was clutching at her chest, just below where the top of the dress she had worn to the poker-charity event had been. She seemed to be trying to rub something away. Concentrating he tried to remember everything he could about her medical file. He'd been concentrating on the one mystery then, whether or not she'd ever been pregnant or lost a child, and hadn't paid much attention to anything else. Cursing himself, he tried to visualize the file in front of him, like he did when he played his piano or when he was attempting to figure out what was wrong with a patient.

For the life of him though, he couldn't visualize the file, he knew he'd read something, or rather skimmed over it, but he couldn't remember what.

"No…no…." Cameron was breathing faster now, and House noticed the beads of sweat break out on her forehead. Automatically he pressed two fingers against her jugular, and before he was cognitively aware of it, he'd taken her pulse and was grabbing the prescription pad out of the bottom of the drawer it lived in and was scrawling out a prescription for a medicine he knew would decrease her heart rate. Just as he finished signing it, he jolted back to the real world. The one where Cameron was sleeping in his chair in his office and was having a nightmare, nothing more, nothing that required medication. Angry at himself for his reaction, and also angry that his leg had chosen that moment to send a spike of shooting pain up his leg, he grabbed the orange bottle of pills off the desk. Just as he was about to toss two into his mouth, he noticed it. They were different. Looking at the bottle, staring at the annoyingly small script on the side, he read the name. And it wasn't his. These weren't his pills, they were Cameron's, and they were a typical heart medication, one usually prescribed after heart surgery, especially if the patient's life involved massive amounts of stress.

Wincing as his leg reminded him of his own pain, he returned the pills to Cameron's bottle and closed it. Then he fished out his own little orange bottle of joy and dry swallowed two Vicodin. Placing her pills back on his desk, he turned and began limping into the conference room. Somehow, right now, he couldn't shove a thick book onto the floor and wake her up. He didn't quite know why he didn't feel like being an ass at that moment, but he knew that if he asked Wilson then the next Dear Abby of doctors would surely tell him. But he didn't want to tell Wilson, Cameron obviously didn't want people knowing that she had a heart condition and somehow he was unwilling to violate her privacy more than he had already. At least for now…he wanted to know the reason behind it….and he always got what he wanted….eventually.

"NO!" He turned, startled, and glad for the extra balance his cane gave him as Cameron shot straight up, eyes wide, panting so heavily that he was sure she was about to hyperventilate. Moving quickly over to her, he turned the chair so that it faced the desk and he used to heavy desk to lean against as he attempted to calm her.

"Your all right…Nothing can happen here. Your in the hospital," even as he said the words he wondered at his reasons. After all he was HOUSE, he didn't take care of people, that what he had Cameron for, and Wilson to an extent. But he shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind as he concentrated on her face. And on her wide hazel eyes that brimmed with pain, terror, and tears.

"I…I…was….at the event…..Uncle Toby…..Uncle Charlie…..the men……the singing was so loud….I…I…" Cameron's words were jumbled, and it was obvious to House that although she knew what she was talking about, he had no clue. Belatedly he realized that he probably should have done some checking into her background when he hired her. But in her interview she'd been everything he was looking for. Not just lobby art either, she was smart, and in a quiet gentle way, she'd stood up to him. Something about her manner said that she was used to being around people with strong personalities and she wouldn't let herself be drowned out or ignored.

Her body visibly relaxed then, and her eyes now didn't just stare into his, not seeing him at all, now she was aware of her actual surroundings and saw him. "House! What are you doing here this early?"

"It's 10:30ish. Why shouldn't I be here, theoretically I actually work here. Although I've found its much more fun to sleep on the job, apparently your joining my petition to Cuddy to reinstitute mandatory naptime? Of course napping alone is a choice, not a requirement in my petition."

"What? 10:30? But….I got here…."

"Kids today, always losing track of time. Stop staying up all night crying over not having saved the world yet and you won't have this problem anymore." He started to move away from her slowly. He figured she hadn't realized their close physical proximity in her initial confusion, but that she was sure to soon. He was throwing up every emotional barrier he'd ever developed as he pulled away, he didn't need to know what was wrong with her. He didn't need to know what her nightmare was about, or why she'd gotten to the office even earlier than normal, judging by how cold the coffee in the mug was. And he really didn't need to know why she was taking heart medication. He didn't need to know and more he didn't care. He kept saying that to himself as he moved away from her.

"Where are the other two?" she asked, having managed to pull herself together or at least managing to stop talking out loud to herself.

"Doing my clinic hours, what else do they do when we don't have a patient. Of course, you should be down there too. Go, fulfill my weekly quota. I command thee."

Glaring at him, Cameron moved to the door, quietly pocketing her bottle of pills, while mentally calculating the odds that he hadn't seen them and hadn't seen what they were for.

"On second thought, redo the coffee. Your batch was cold so Chase made an attempt at it. I'm pretty sure he didn't break the machine, but he did manage to make pure sludge."

Sighing, Cameron changed her route from heading to the hallway door to heading to the connecting door to the conference room. She knew she should have followed her mother's advice and never made or brought anyone coffee, ever. To bad both Chase and Foreman were incapable of making even a passable cup of coffee, her severe caffeine addiction required at least decent coffee. Besides, she couldn't imagine House making coffee, it was just too….domestic a task for her to imagine him doing it. He was just too…the task didn't fit him.

Just as she was about to slip through to the other room, he suddenly called out as he slipped into his chair, "Oh and Cameron? Your prescription's low, might want to think about getting it refilled."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. This chapter focuses more on the West Wing end of things, and moves the plot. I hope you like, and please, as always, remember to review. Reviews make me smile and well, I like smiling, so that's a good enough reason.

Chapter 3

Huck groaned and stared at his blank legal pad. This pad was almost used up, mainly because every time he started over, he tore off the offending pages, the filled pages with the horrific writing that he wouldn't ever show anyone. Well, perhaps one person, he'd always shown his work, no matter how bad he thought it was to AJ. But she wasn't here anymore, she'd left, abandoning her plans for law school and a bachelor's in political science, she had chosen her other love medicine. And had decided to not use both her specialized degrees to help people the way her parents, and his parents, had. Standing up and stretching his arms high over his head, he rolled his neck, feeling it crack as he moved the stiff joints, he grinned with the memory of making AJ wince every time she'd heard a joint crack. She hated that sound, and often to annoy her, he would crack as much as he could. He'd learned to make it last for about five minutes, going all the way up his back and neck, and then to his fingers, AJ would usually be covering her ears and wincing by the end of it.

But those were happier memories of his lifelong friend. Those and memories of copying her father and his roommate from sophomore year of college, they still hadn't been able to find out the unknown man's name, and getting a fish, a goldfish in honor of Aunt CJ's recent successes in creating roadways and transportation infrastructure in Africa, onto the dean's list. Hell, the fish had made the dean's list more often then he had. AJ though, she was smart, easily her father's daughter, though she had relied more on the common sense and native intelligence that her mother possessed in spades.

But then came the memories of AJ meeting Brian, and the laughter, and the hardship, being her mother's daughter AJ had never managed to have an easy simple relationship. Huck wasn't even sure that AJ had ever told Brian about that day….he was sure the man had known about it…it was still so recent, and their undergrad work had been done in DC, where people were aware of it simply because of who she was, and the fact that her parents had not left their jobs to take care of her. Only close family friends knew that AJ had demanded that her parents not leave the jobs they loved for her. But he didn't think AJ had ever talked with Brian about it…or about the chilling aftereffect…the simple truth that even though her heart had been fixed, even though the doctors had pulled off a 16-hour miracle that long night in January, she was never going to be the same….broken as she called it, damaged beyond repair.

Interrupting his walk down memory lane, Sara knocked on the frame to his office door and poked her head inside, "Bill needs to see you."

"As long as its not about the speech. I'll give him the draft when I'm good and ready," Huck grumbled. He, like AJ, and even Noah, had a reputation for being like his father. Although, he would classify AJ as her mother's daughter, with many of her father's bad habits. Grabbing the last copy of the speech out of the bin, and smoothing away some of the cresses, he took it with him, not that he wanted anyone to see it, and walked the 49 feet to the Chief of Staff's office, mentally smiling that his office was only 53 feet away from the Oval.

Quickly raping his knuckles on the doorframe, he walked into Bill's office, and found that he was not the only one there. Noah was also waiting, the impatience plain to see on his face. Huck wondered why the Deputy Chief of Staff was also there, and figured it was a same assumption that it wasn't about the speech to the teacher's union.

"We have a slight problem," Bill began, walking into his office and to his desk. He didn't go around to the other side to sit, instead he faced Huck Wyatt-Zeigler, and Noah Lyman.

"What type of problem? A we can fix this by noon if we don't get too badly off schedule problem, a going to occupy us for days even if we can't really do anything problem, or a huge going to give everyone a headache a make our lives revolve around it problem?" Noah asked, looking more like his father, and sounding like him, than Huck had ever seen his other lifelong friend.

"Somewhere in-between the last two, we have a chance to help relations with North Korea move to a slightly more stable position…"

"You mean spouting anti-U.S. rhetoric and attempting to have missile tests every few years isn't stable?" Huck muttered under his breath.

"Can the two of you stop being your father's for about five minutes? The youngest grandson of the current leader…"

"The one whose name you still can't pronounce, even though he's been in power since oh, before the Bartlett Administration?" Noah teased.

"Remind me why I hired you for even just the campaign? Much less let you hang around for the real work?" Bill groaned, remembering exactly why he had, Noah was a, slightly, nicer version of Joshua Lyman, and was just as smart and personable. He also had contacts that Bill didn't, despite the difference in their ages, a product of growing up in the most politicized square footage in the United States. Like his father he was also a bulldog, perfect for the roll of Deputy Chief of Staff. "The grandson is sick. None of their doctors can figure it out, mush less the Chinese doctors they've let examine him."

"So talk to World Health Organization, or Doctors Without Boarders, or hell, anybody else. What are the odds they would let a U.S. doctor treat him? And what are the odds they would even ask?" Noah rationalized.

"The Swiss, as always it seems, have become the intermediary. The North Koreans know who they want to treat the kid. And since the President has already even the go-ahead, you two get to draw straws."

"Over what?" Huck asked already knowing the answer.

"Which one of you gets to go to New Jersey and get one Gregory House to take the case."

"Since his sister…" Huck began pointing at Noah.

"Exactly why it shouldn't be me, there'll be more pressure if it was me, therefore it should be you…" Noah responded.

"One of these days, one of you will tell me why you are terrified of someone who weighs less than a third of either of you. RPS it," Bill said, using the method he had found that the two younger men used during the campaign to figure who would do something neither wanted to. They had a habit of using it still, especially when it came down to how had to talk to Mary Marsh, Bill was just amused she was still alive, after all she had been a power player for the Christian Right since the Bartlett Administration, and still seemed to despise anyone named Lyman.

"Ready?" Noah asked, turning to face Huck, and holding his hands out in the traditional way.

"Yeah, I guess. Rock, Paper, Scissors," Huck intoned, as both their hands moved.

"Yes! Victory is mine, victory is mine. Great day in the morning, victory is mine" Noah exclaimed.

"And your still acting like him. Actually that even sounds like him. You quote your own father?" Huck asked.

"Hey your dad was the one that couldn't get over the fact that babies come with hats."

"Let's not go there. Is there a file or something that I need so I can convince these people with I don't know, medical evidence that they really need to take this case?"

"And you even get a phone number. The doctor on the plane is calling in every hour to give an update. Until you get to the hospital, just write down what the doctor tells you. After that…"

"I give it to her, and let them do their jobs while hoping nothing goes wrong and more importantly that the man who is quite possibly the craziest drug-addicted doctor in the continental United States, I exclude Alaska and Hawaii, because well, six months of sun and six months of dark is enough to make anyone crazy, and well who can be crazy in Hawaii, doesn't kill this kid and totally screw foreign policy up for 50 or so years?"

"Basically, yes. Here's the folder. We don't have a lot of time, so there's a car waiting to take you to Andrews. There's a chopper waiting to fly you up…try not to insult anyone you meet. Remember these people will be voting for us in an all too short amount of time." Bill handed Huck the folder, and with that the two second-generation West Wing staffers left.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:To those how have reviewed, thank you so very much. Here is the next chapter. Please enjoy, and remember, reviews make the world go round, and cause writers to ignore papers and presentations to come up with new chapters for you.

Chapter 4

Thump, thunk, thump, thunk; Wilson followed the noise to House's office, not knowing if he wanted to know what was going on inside.

Glancing through the glass, he smirked to himself; House was throwing his oversized tennis ball at the wall lacrosse style and catching it with the hook of his cane. At least, he thought, House isn't hurting anyone yet this week, but just to be sure as he walked into his friend's office he rapped his knuckles on the pseudo-wood door frame.

For once, House didn't notice, or rather didn't pretend to notice Wilson, as the oncologist walked toward him. His mind was fully occupied with what he had begun to call in his mind "the Mystery of Cameron," her file had reveled little actually. Only that there had been a surgery, and that it had taken place at George Washington, which made sense, after all apparently she had been born and raised in the District of Columbia, and had been there at the time. GWU had the best trauma medicine program and so for her treatment to be there was logical. But the file had reveled nothing about the nature of the surgery. Only that it had been long and both her lungs had collapsed, there was no reason given for why she was in surgery, and there was no reason given for the consultations with a man named Stanley Keyworth. The name was completely unfamiliar to House and a Google search of the name had come up more questions. One of the holders of that name was a psychiatrist with the ATVA, a smaller group associated with FEMA. The man was apparently a trauma victim psychiatrist.

The question was why would Cameron need to see such a man? The possibilities didn't fit the profile of her that he'd built since the beginning of her fellowship. It was Cameron, she was damaged yes, she had to be, for her to work so hard to go to med school and do as well as she did being damaged was a foregone conclusion. But he had interpreted her damage to be that she was attracted to dying or otherwise ill men, or at the very least men like him, crippled. But major surgery, consults with a trauma shrink, the pills, and her reaction to her nightmare, her unfocused eyes and inability to tell where she was, that spoke to something else…..something more damaging. He had to wonder now if her damage wasn't simply a matter of wanting to fix everything and everyone, he now had to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she was more damaged than he was.

MD

Wilson stood in the middle of House's office, wondering if this was a new annoyance technique or if his friend really was so deeply involved in something that House hadn't actually noticed him. If House had had a patient, then Wilson would have automatically assumed that to be the case, but the oncologist knew that the Diagnostics Department had no case at the moment, and still House had not bugged him all day. True, House had still avoided the Clinic, but he always did that. For the life of him James Wilson could not think of anything that could cause this behavior in House. Even when Stacy had been around, either time really, and House had been thinking about her or contemplating some part of their relationship he'd never appeared to be thinking quite so hard or so involved in the apparent problem.

If it wasn't a case it had to be a person, Wilson decided. He knew it wasn't him, Cuddy had not seemed to be on the warpath nor had she come to complain about whatever it was House was doing now. That left the "ducklings" as House called them. Foreman seemed fine when he's seen the neurologist in passing that day. Chase had seemed all right as well. It also took a lot for House to care about either of those two. If either were sick then House might give a damn about them, but otherwise they were simply pains in House's…leg, Wilson thought, smiling at his own pun, even if he knew it was bad. Of course, if it wasn't the male two-thirds of the ducklings that left the female third. Wilson tried to think if he'd seen Cameron around at all, but it was after 2 in the afternoon and he hadn't heard or seen anything of the pretty immunologist. But she was the last person who House could be contemplating, and if it was her, and House was thinking that hard about her, it could only mean trouble.

Wilson had nothing against her, she was nice enough, even if she was still very raw and open with her emotions. She was incredibility good at her job, and managed to work well with House, usually. If she had a problem with him the whole department had a habit of nearly falling apart though. Still, Wilson was unsure about the idea of her and House together, she simply didn't seem strong enough one minute and the next she had the capability, the potential, to turn into Stacy. It was that potential that worried him. He wondered at what Cuddy had said, that Cameron wasn't as delightful as she, meaning Cameron herself, thought she was, he wasn't sure Cameron thought herself delightful at all. But that woman was a master at secrets, hardly anyone knew anything about her, and what people did know was what she allowed them to know. It was odd behavior for a person who was so open with her emotions. And it worried him. With the pain back in full force, Cameron now had even more potential to push House over the edge. And Wilson worried that all she would have to do for House to fall, was leave.

MD

Huck walked quickly through the glass doors of the hospital. It amused him that the place AJ had chosen was made of glass, after all she had always said that transparency was a true republic or democracy's gift and its curse. Once long ago he'd tried to argue that it was not a curse but a gift, then he'd grown up. And fully learned about his father's choice and the fallout of that choice. It had taken him years to understand, but he had, with Uncle Josh's help. When he'd been a kid Josh Lyman had been at least a demigod in his eyes, his own father had instilled too much respect for and, in a way, love of religion for even Huck-the-child to view a person as a god. But if anyone could come close, it was AJ and Noah's dad. Other White House Staffer's got tired and burnt out, but not Josh Lyman. It had seemed as if he fed off the all consuming energy that emanated from the West Wing.

Now he knew better. Now he knew that it had been Mrs. Lyman who had enabled Josh to withstand the pressures of the job. Without Donna, Josh was no more a demigod than anyone else, it was she who made him what he was, and in turn Josh had given her what she gave him.

Briefly he wondered if AJ and Brian would have been that way. He thought so, after all Brain Cameron had been the love of AJ's life. But he also hoped against all hope that it was possible for a person to have two loves of their life. His experience, and the examples of the Lyman's, his own parents, the Young's, the Santos's, the Seaborn's, and especially the Bartlett's, told him no. But he still hoped. After all it wasn't fair to AJ that she'd had to bury the love of her life at 21. Bu then, in a way they had buried AJ that day too.

Pushing these thoughts out of his head he squared his shoulders and walked up to the young woman sitting at the desk outside the office labeled, Lisa Cuddy. Thanking genetics that he's inherited his mother's height and not his father's he smiled at the young woman, also thankful for years of smiling for cameras as the Congresswoman's and then Senator's son.

With a bit of charm, and the sly dropping that he worked at the White House, and maybe he could take her on a private tour, he got in. Somebody it seemed, hadn't told the hospital he was coming. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was a thing.

MD

"House, you have a case," Lisa Cuddy said as she walked into his office. It was the one good thing about the glass walls, she could see if he was in his office or not before she did something stupid like walk into a room talking to nobody.

Not even bothering to turn his chair around to face her, House used the best method he could think of, say nothing. After all she had interrupted his thought process. Not that he'd gotten any farther into his, or rather Cameron's problem.

"House, unless you've suddenly developed deafness or the ability to hibernate, turn around, NOW."

Smiling slyly, he suddenly spun the chair around. And started signing. He nearly lost control when Cuddy's jaw dropped, she hadn't known that he knew American Sign Language. The man with her though, took it in stride, and nearly mad House's jaw drop as well.

He started signing. And accurately translating what House was saying as well as simultaneously translating his own words.

"Look, Dr. House….House….whatever it is you prefer to be called, I don't have the time, energy, or inclination to fight with you. Actually I have other things to do, the only reason I am here is because for some reason you actually managed to impress somebody. So now I have to make sure you don't do what the entire medical community has been waiting for, kill a patient who doesn't deserve or want it, and thus don't completely screw over our foreign relations for the next 50 years or so. Read this, you'll want this case," Huck spoke and signed at the same time. From the look on the man's face he was surprised, he hadn't expected anyone to be able to communicate with him by signing, or to know what he'd said. Huck tossed the medical file and the notes he'd taken from the phone calls onto the House's desk.

Glaring at the tall stranger House glanced at the legal pad filled with notes, and at the unopened file, "Why should I? In case Dr. Cuddy here hasn't told you, my deal with the hospital board is that I only take the cases I want."

"You don't have a choice on this one. The….family, has requested you."

"And whose the family? Another mob family, cause I've been there and done that," House smirked.

"Hardly. In this case the family, is the North Korean government. Your patient is their dictators grandson. Favorite grandson in fact, and they want you for some reason. So you don't have a choice."

"Last time I checked we all have a choice. Like I have the choice to ignore you, to take two Vicodin, or to kick you out of my office. Which is it? Because I have a choice and I'm not interested."

"Take a look at the file, you will be."

"Ah, no. Remember I have a choice here."

MD

Just then Cameron walked by, heading originally to the conference room and her own desk, but even just glancing at his back and some of his profile was an instant identifier. Huck Wyatt-Ziegler was in her boss's office, with Cuddy. This was so not good on any number of levels. She vaguely felt like a superhero who was about to be exposed on national tv, or at least to the love interest, although why she felt that last one was buried deep in the back of her mind. She didn't want to think of House as the love interest to her soon to be exposed secret identity. She wanted House to be nothing to her, but that was a failing theory. Not that the fact that it was failing and had been since about 3 seconds after she'd told him that she had jumped on the bandwagon and hated him, meant anything. She was clinging to a sinking ship and she knew it, but that knowledge was the only thing keeping her going. Sighing, she decided to head off any identity reveling problems at the head. If she was exposed, well then she would do it herself, so with utmost care she opened the door just a bit and slipped into House's office without anyone knowing. After all she had slipped in through the front door and currently Cuddy and Huck's bodies shielded her from House.

She hadn't meant to speak at all, but when House had said that he had a choice about whether or not to treat a patient, it was an automatic response. But when Cuddy and Huck turned to look at her, and from behind his desk, House's piercing eyes pinned her to the floor, she still found, from years of living, eating, breathing, and absorbing power politics, the ability to answer him when he asked what she had just said. "You set the leg. You don't get a choice here House, you took an oath, much as you seem to pretend you didn't sometimes. That means you don't get to choose the patient, you treat the one in front of you. There is no choice here, you set the leg."

Fighting back a rare smile, Huck nodded at her, "Allison."

Still staring down House, Cameron smiled, not her normal smile, it was instead a variant of her father's smirk. Sometimes, mainly because of her brother and the fact that she had chosen another path, people forgot that she was in many ways, her father's daughter. With looking at him, she replied just as calmly as if she saw him every day of the week, "Huckleberry."

For the second time both Cuddy and House's jaws dropped to the floor. But neither knew if it was because of Cameron, the fact that she was standing up to House as if she stood up to him everyday, or her familiarity with the man who was a stranger to them, or perhaps it was because of his name.

In the end, House simply couldn't resist, it was way to good to pass up, "Huckleberry? What'd you do in utero to get saddled with that?"


End file.
